


The Birthday Wish

by AndreaDTX



Series: What's Your Fantasy? [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cock Warming, Consensual Somnophilia, M/M, Overstimulation, Top Dean Winchester/ Bottom Sam Winchester, consensual drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 08:45:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13073310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaDTX/pseuds/AndreaDTX
Summary: When Sam accidentally stumbles on to one of Dean's secret fantasies, he decides to make it come true.Stand-Alone





	The Birthday Wish

Sam smiles brightly at the green and white carry-out cup and sniffs at its contents. “Vanilla Sweet Cream Brew. You remembered.”

Dean shrugs and gives an embarrassed half-grin. “I listen sometimes.”

Sam takes a sip, pauses, frowns, but then keeps drinking, mixing swallows of decaf coffee with bites from the blueberry muffin Dean bought to go with it. They both pretend not to know it all tastes kinda funny. Ignoring the blatantly chemical taste, Sam eats and drinks it all.

Dean takes a sip of his own black coffee, lightly laced with something else entirely. His stomach flits nervously as he waits.

When they’d first started discussing this, it had seemed like a way of razzing each other, a joke about how often Sam wakes with Dean humping him.

“You’d probably keep going even if I didn’t wake up,” Sam said with a laugh as Dean lay half-on top of him.

Dean’s dick jumped at the idea even as he denied it. Sam raised an eyebrow, but Dean kissed him to shut him up and the conversation dropped. Or at least he thought it did.

A few days later, they were sitting in the Impala staking out a _rusalka_ that was luring and trapping virgins into its harem when Sam brought it up again.

“You know, your birthday is coming up…”

Dean shifted, staring out the window, making sure nobody approached or left the pond they were surveilling. “Yeah. So?”

“Well, I thought we might do something fun.”

“Like what,” Dean asks, grabbing his water bottle, and taking a swig. “World’s Second Biggest Ball of Yarn again?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of letting you fuck me while I sleep.”

Dean choked, sputtering water everywhere. Even after he managed to finally clear his throat and catch his breath, he blinked dumbly at his little brother. “I musta misheard you ‘cause it sounded like you said—“

“That I’d let you fuck me while I sleep. I did.”

“Dude, were you outside without me? Did the _rusalka_ throw some juju on you?” Dean asked, concerned, reaching for Sam’s face, presumably to check for fever or some other symptom.

Sam slapped his hands away. “I haven’t been anywhere you haven’t been. And we were talking about this before we even started this hunt. So what do you think?”

Dean shifted his gaze back out at the pond to keep from having to look at Sam as he spoke. “Even if I was on board with this, how would that work? This whole idea started because you woke up from me just grinding against you.”

“Dude. We have a rolling pharmacy.”

Dean’s gaze snapped back. “I can’t let you—“

“You’re not. I’m choosing to. In fact, I’m going to do it regardless,” Sam said. “Then probably take a nap. In your bed. Naked. And I’ll either get some well needed rest or the fucking of my life.”

And to Dean’s never-ending embarrassment, he had to physically grab himself and squeeze to keep from jizzing right then and there, destroying any ability to deny that this was his uber-wet dream.

Which is how they found themselves here, willingly drugging themselves and each other, Dean with a little something to keep the party going, Sam with enough sleeping aid to down a moose.

“How do you feel?” Dean asks.

“Good for now. I don’t think it’s kicked in, yet,” Sam answers. “Maybe we should move this to the bedroom. I’m not the easiest person to move when I can’t help.”

Dean snorts a laugh. “Preaching to the choir.”

Leaving the bunker kitchen, they head down the hall and into Sam’s room. Dean figures Sam will be more comfortable in his own space, plus his bed is bigger. Sam strips, flannel shirt, t-shirt, toes off his shoes. When Sam’s hands go to his belt, Dean’s pretty sure his narcotic bingo is working. It usually takes at least some physical contact for him to have his dick to be roaring to go, but not a touch yet and his cock is already chomping at the bit.

Sam shoves his pants and underwear down his legs and sits heavily on the side of the bed. The move is a bit graceless even for a Samsquatch. When Sam nearly tips over trying to work his pants over his feet, Dean jumps to intervene.

“Whoa, buddy, I got it.”

Sam looks up, pupils tight, and grins dopily. “I think I’m starting to feel it.”

“Awesome.”

Dean works Sam’s pants off and pushes him back on to the bed. Sam goes with no argument, a sure sign that he’s going under.

Taking that as his signal to get the show on the road, Dean strips hurriedly, grabs the bottle of lube from Sam’s night stand, and joins Sam on the bed.

“Hi!” Sam says with a bright smile as though it’s the first time he’s seen Dean today.

“Hi,” Dean replies and climbs on top of Sam.

“Oh, this is _nice_ ,” Sam says in a wowed voice and grabs Dean by the cock. But his touch is soft and glancing, more like a child curious about a new object than the opening moves of epic sex. In fact, it borders on ticklish, but Dean doesn’t make him stop.

Instead, Dean leans forward and kisses him, a deep, devouring kiss with clashing tongues and teeth. Sam joins in enthusiastically, giving as good as he gets.  

As it goes on, Dean can feel Sam’s technique devolving, getting sloppier and sloppier. Sam’s hand is no longer on Dean’s cock, but rather on his hips, trying to force more friction. Dry humping at its best. It’s such a frenzied, juvenile action, Dean can’t help but chuckle and wonder if this is the drugs stripping his brother’s usual smoothness or if this was what Sam was like as a teenager first learning the moves.

Dean breaks the kiss and grinds down, giving Sam a firm surface to rut against. Sam moans loudly, a verbalization he would normally reign in, grunting and growling instead. Glee lights through Dean’s chest. This uninhibited version of Sam is pretty damned hot.

“Feel so goo’….” Sam slurs. He humps up again even as his hands fall numbly to the bed. He looks at Dean. “Touch me?”

“Sure deal,” Dean says and rubs at Sam’s chest and shoulders as he grinds down against Sam’s thrusts.

Sam frowns and shakes his head slowly. “Noooo, my… my dick, dude.”

Dean laughs. “You’re kinda bossy.”

Sam blinks slowly and has to visibly work to focus. “At least… I’m not... I'm not short.”

Dean barks with laughter. Sam smiles back, dazed but with dimples in full effect.

Pouring lube into his hand, he grips Sam’s cock, which knocks the confused smile from Sam’s face and makes him hiss and arch his back, thrusting up into the touch.

“Fuck, yeah…” Sam moans, staring at Dean. Well, it would be staring at Dean if Sam’s eyes would focus. “Keep goin’.”

Dean complies, thrilled by the noises he can pull from his normally taciturn brother in this state.

Sam’s eyes blink, each time taking longer and longer to open. His hips thrust slowly into Dean’s touch with less and less coordination. Partially the herky-jerky of _gonnacumgonnacum,_ but also a clear indication that the drugs are taking over. Dean has the wild thought that if he times it right, a massive orgasm will be the last thing Sam experiences before slipping into unconsciousness for the next few hours.

Unreasonably aroused by the idea, Dean tightens his grips and strokes faster. He gaze is glued to Sam’s face. Sam’s eyes are barely cracked, staring into nothingness, far beyond actually seeing Dean. His hips are still hitching minutely and his throat is working, Adam’s apple bobbing, a clear indication that he’s still feeling every touch. Dean works Sam harder, watching as a flush works its way up Sam’s chest and throat and stains his cheeks. Sam’s eyelids flutter and his stomach and thigh muscles clench. Dean licks his lips, itching to see Sam fly. The tension builds and builds until…

Sam’s breath freezes for a split second. His fingers and toes flex just a bit and a sheen of goosebumps breaks out over all the skin Dean can see. A soft grunt falls from Sam’s throat and his cock starts to spit strings of cum just as his entire body slumps.

Dean is inordinately proud as he works Sam through the aftershocks, taking in his every reaction. It’s a little mind-blowing. Wet dreams in his teens and early twenties have led to him waking up in the middle of an orgasm, but Dean’s definitely never fallen asleep in the middle of one.

Sam’s no longer twitching. He’s completely out. Dean sits back and studies him, feeling giddy like a kid with the keys to the candy store.

Given free reign, Dean explores Sam’s body. The way he’s always wanted but never been able to because despite being built like a sex demi-god, Sam has always been super self-conscious about his body, constantly slumping in on himself and wearing layer upon layer to deflect attention. 

Dean smooths a hand over Sam’s face, taking in features as familiar as his own. He strokes Sam’s hair, in a way he never would if Sam were awake, curling the strands around his fingers, raking his hands through it. He trails a finger over the shell of Sam’s ear, across the prominent ridge of his brow, over the bridge of his nose, and across his lips, stopping to push in and touch the warm, wet heat of Sam’s tongue. He kisses Sam’s lax mouth, pushing wide to suck at his tongue, then his lips, nipping at his chin, mouthing at his Adam’s apple.

He slides both hands over Sam’s chest, stopping to tweak each nipple. Sam has amazing nipples, dark brown, perfect size for a guy, and crazy sensitive. But he doesn’t like them to be touched. He hates that they’re as responsive as any girl Dean’s ever been with. Dean has wondered more than once if he could get Sam off on nipple play alone, but Sam would never let him try in a million years.

Dean licks at one nipple and then another. He purses his lips and blows a gust of cool air, watching as the buds harden in response. Dean latches on to one then the other, suckling like he expects something to come out. He mashes the hardened bit of flesh between his tongue and his teeth like he’s trying to suck the pit out of a cherry, a method girls he’s been with swear by, before letting it slip out of his mouth to see the results.

Not quite satisfied, he switches to rolling the tender points between the edges of his teeth. Carefully, he lets his bite clamp down with more than a little pressure, gripping the sensitive skin, and pulling it taut. He watches in fascination as Sam’s arm twitches just a bit, making a feint swiping motion. It reminds him vaguely of a medical documentary Sam had conned him into watching where doctors would pinch nipples to check brain activity as it was the only stimulus strong enough that even comatose patients would react.

Wanting to be sure he isn’t unintentionally hurting Sam, Dean switches back to softer touch, suckling, licking, and blowing until the little nubs are puffy but hard, the skin around them flushed red and goose bumped. Then Dean makes himself stop. Any more and Sam will basically wake up with hickied nipples. As much as he’s enjoying himself, Dean sighs and moves on.

He skims his way down Sam’s stomach, circling Sam’s belly button with his tongue a few times before following the fuzz of his happy trail down to the main attraction. Dean takes a deep breath, inhaling Sam’s musky scent. He’s smelled it dozens, if not hundreds of times, and he still can’t get enough of it. He pushes Sam’s knee to the side to get better access to the source. He mouths at Sam cock, lips skimming the flaccid member. A state Dean rarely sees it in, it’s strikingly vulnerable. Dean licks at the head, the tangy remainder of Sam’s earlier release dances across his senses, making Dean’s mouth water.

He trails down the shaft to Sam’s sac. He licks at one of Sam’s balls and uses his tongue to pull it into his mouth. He hums low and long at the feeling. Sam’s breath hitches slightly, probably in response to the vibration, but quickly even outs. Dean runs his tongue along the underside of the orb and settles for a moment, memorizing the feeling. It reminds him of something he’s wanted to try but has never dared to ask Sam. He’s always been too embarrassed to explain the desire to Sam.

_Nah, it’s not a blow job exactly... I just want to hang out here with your cock in my mouth. Cool?  
_

But now’s his chance. He lets go of Sam’s sac and moves up to Sam’s cock where it lays on one thigh. Dean nudges Sam’s legs wider apart to make room for his shoulders, pulls Sam into his mouth, working down until his lips press against Sam’s root, and rests his head against Sam’s thigh.

It’s everything Dean thought it would be. Soft, Sam’s got nothing to be shy about, but he could still be labeled a grower, so his flaccid length is just enough to challenge Dean’s gag reflex without being threatening. He focuses his breathing, letting his tongue and palate mold around Sam, and soon his mind starts to float.

Dean’s not sure how long he lays there suckling at Sam’s perfect length, but when he comes back to himself, he feels fuzzy and it takes a moment to bring his brain fully back online. He lets Sam’s cock fall from his mouth with a wet thwack. He stretches his jaw and flexes his cramped muscles. He stares at Sam, who’s resting comfortably, splayed out on the bed in the exact position Dean placed him. The level of trust Sam has given him fuels a burning in his stomach that feels like it might bubble over. His cock jerks and he reaches down and squeezes.

_Message received, little buddy._

He considers how he wants to do it. Sam said he could do whatever he wanted.

He fucks Sam face-to-face with Sam on his back. Sam does it to him all the time, saying he likes to able to see Dean’s reactions, but won’t let Dean fuck him this way probably for the same reason. So Dean fingers his little brother open and grabs Sam by the calves, hitching Sam legs high, pushing far enough that Sam’s toes are far closer to his own ears than a conscious Sam would probably ever allow. He pauses and groans at how exposed and vulnerable and downright pornographic Sam looks lying in this position. He takes a mental picture, hell, a mental video, as he pushes in. This is definitely going in his permanent spank bank.

_Fuck._

The depth of penetration it gives. Dean thrusts hard, going balls deep with each push, getting none of the usual resistance he gets on the rare occasion that Sam bottoms. He can definitely see why Sam likes this position and it’s more than a little fucked up that Sam’s been purposefully keeping this to himself.

As he pounds into Sam’s tight heat, his mind adds its two cents, throwing all kinds of ideas at him. He lets his eye fall shut and imagines Sam, blindfolded, hands cuffed above his head, ankles bound to the corners of the headboard, doubling Sam over with his legs splayed wide, ass tilted up and his hole wide open and on display, begging to be ridden hard.

It’s enough to tip Dean over. Release punches through him, barreling like a train.  He bears down, thrusting through the sensations, until the spasms stop and he’s shuddering through aftershocks. He slumps onto Sam, letting Sam’s legs fall to a more natural position, settling around Dean’s waist. Dean continues small, slow thrusts into Sam’s pliant hole, resting on Sam’s chest as he grinds his hips for the last dregs of pleasure and stimulation.

When he finally stops, his head flops to Sam’s shoulder. It felt good, better than good. Great. Amazing, even. But it’s impossible not to catalogue the way it’s… different. Sam’s breathing isn’t noisy. His heart isn’t racing like Dean’s. He’s sweating, but it’s probably in reaction to the heat Dean’s body is throwing off like a furnace. His cock can barely even be classified as chubbing. As far as Sam’s body is concerned, he’s fast asleep, not balls deep in the kinkiest, most intense fuck session they’ve ever had. That simultaneously thrills and weirds Dean out.

He pulls out and sits on his haunches. He studies Sam’s hole which is now gaping with traces of lube and Dean’s spend glistening around the edges. Dean shoves in two fingers, feeling around, stroking the hot, inner walls. He searches until he finds the spot he’s looking for. He rubs at it, hard. Sam’s cock jerks, filling some but not anywhere near the firmness it has when Sam’s really in the game. Dean keeps rubbing, watching the tell-tale flush build across Sam’s chest, neck, and cheeks, but stops before he forces Sam’s body over the edge. He ever so slowly pulls his fingers out enthralled by the milky string of lube and his own cum that stretches from Sam’s hole to his fingers before snapping. Sam’s body gives a slight shuddery twitch and Dean responds in kind, briefly wondering if it’s possible to edge Sam in his sleep, before letting the thought slide away.

Dean studies Sam’s cock and wonders what it would take to get him completely hard. The throbbing, dripping, beet red kind of hard Dean's used to seeing. He flips over on the bed to where he can reach Sam’s night stand. Reaching in to the drawer, he searches around until he finds one of the vibrators they like to play with.

He clicks on the vibe to the lowest setting and presses it directly to the head of Sam’s cock. It’s a bold move, one that would normally be rebuffed as too intense. Dean can feel Sam’s cock firming up quickly, can see his stomach and thigh muscles reacting. He gives Sam a bit of a break and runs the vibe up and down the shaft before once again settling it firmly just under Sam’s cockhead, a spot that always gets results when they play. It doesn’t take long until Sam’s cock throbs in warning and then begins to twitch, cum dribbling from the tip. It never reaches the level of hardness Dean had been looking for. Maybe the drugs just make it impossible.

Nevertheless, Dean watches, obsessed by how different an orgasm while drugged to the gills looks from the ones Sam has while conscious and sober. The small sadistic part of Dean wants to see how far he can take this. He kicks the vibe up a setting, pressing it more firmly against Sam’s cockhead. Before long, Sam’s limbs all begin to twitch and jerk faintly, like an electrified frog. His face pinches slightly, his breath hitches, and soft whines begin to leak out of his throat, the most reaction Dean’s gotten since Sam went under, although his eyes still don’t open.

Dean keeps going until he sees the first tear run from the corner of Sam’s eyes. He suddenly feels like a jerk. Sam’s trusting him with his helpless, unconscious body and Dean’s literally focused on pushing him to the breaking point. Dean drops the vibe and uses his hands to rub Sam’s chest and arms, his spasming stomach, trying to sooth the jerky tension, wanting to make up for it even though Sam probably won’t remember the overreach or any amends Dean might make.

Subdued, Dean manhandles Sam onto his stomach and returns to his earlier exploration of Sam’s body. He runs his hands over Sam’s shoulders, admiring the layers of muscles. How did Sam end up with such broad shoulders? He can still remember a teenage Sam lamenting that Dean and their dad were so solid while Sam could be blown over by a strong breeze. But look at him now. Dean bites the curve of one shoulder before sliding his hands down Sam’s spine to his ass. He pushes the cheeks apart, exposing Sam’s hole. It’s seriously perfect, reminding Dean of a pitted peach, a description Sam would mock mercilessly if Dean's ever foolish enough to voice it. He runs a finger over the loose furl and considers rimming Sam, but decides against it since that’s fun mostly because of the noises Sam makes while he does it. Plus, he’s full of lube and Dean’s own cum which isn’t exactly Dean’s favorite flavor.

Instead, he pushes at Sam’s legs, working both knees up to give himself plenty of room. Dean sticks in a finger, missing the reflexive clenches Sam always gives him. He quickly adds a second finger and then a third, scissoring them, marveling at the ease of opening Sam when he’s not tensing and squirming. He works up to a fourth finger, the most they’ve ever done. He considers going full-bore and seeing if he can get his whole hand in. They’ve talked about it. But even with Sam’s blanket permission, it feels out of bounds, like something Sam should be able to give explicit and specific consent for. Plus, given how much they’ve talked about it, it’s probably something Sam wants to be awake remember.

He pulls his fingers out, props up Sam’s hips with a pillow underneath, and slides his cock back in. The blood-hot heat of Sam’s overworked channel feels good, albeit a little uncomfortable, like slipping into an over-hot bath. He drapes over Sam and thinks he could seriously sleep this way. He presses his face against Sam’s, looping his arms under Sam’s torso to grip him by the shoulders, and fucks into him, slowly, gently, teasing himself with the cling of skin and the dragging friction of his in and out motions, all the while muzzling against Sam's nape, losing himself in Sam's unique blend of soap, shampoo, and clean sweat.  He keeps thrusting, lazily, in no hurry to get to the finish line. When he finally cums, it rolls over him in waves, a much gentler release than before. He eases through it, slowly letting his hips come to a stop. He pulls out of Sam, hissing softly when the skin on his cock stings a bit. He’s starting to get sore even though the chemical additives won’t let his erection fade just yet.

Urgency all but gone, but wanting to make the most of his remaining time, Dean pulls and tugs Sam once again until he’s draped over Dean’s chest, impaled on Dean’s cock, knees pulled snug along Dean’s hips. Dean hugs his brother, content to lay there and enjoy being inside Sam’s body, even without movement. He kisses the top of Sam’s head and the side of his face, tucks his hair behind his ears, a nervous tick he’s seen Sam do a million times. He rubs a hand up and down Sam’s back, shoulders to lower back. The move would probably be considered sweet if not for his inability to resist periodically sliding his hand lower to trace down to where Sam is still stretched wide around his cock. It gives him a thrill of satisfaction, of triumph. But he doesn’t take it any further. He simply rests, savors the moment, and waits for his brother to surface.

Dean knows the exact moment Sam starts to wake. He can feel him flinch with sensitivity, Sam groaning as his body clenches around the unexpected intrusion.

“Dean?” Sam groans, lifting his head.

Dean pushes Sam’s head back down. “Shh… you’re okay. You’re fine. Give yourself a minute.”

Sam’s body relaxes outwardly but his channel keeps squeezing until Dean is unable to resist. He thrusts slowly into Sam, punching out a surprised grunt followed by a series of soft little _ah ah ahs_ of pain from him even as Sam rocks his hips encouragingly into it. This is what he’d been missing. The sounds. The interaction. The Sam of it all. The feeling of ‘just right’ makes Dean double down on his thrusts despite his cock protesting the continued friction. He keeps going until Sam lets out a closed mouth scream and his whole body clamps down. Sam strains, gasping, his channel rippling around Dean’s cock, dragging Dean over the edge with him even though it’s dry as neither of them has anything left to give.

When the dust settles, Dean is still inside Sam, who’s nearly passed out again. He can feel the tingling signs that his blue pill enhancement is wearing off and he sighs in relief. Dean moves to slide out but Sam stops him, gripping him tightly.

“You’re not going to be able to walk.”

Sam hums. “I know. But not yet.”

Dean sighs and rubs at Sam’s back, amazed with the trust, the gift that Sam has given him.

Sam yawns, launching into a whole body stretch that makes Dean yelp at the sudden tightness before his softening cock is forcefully ejected from Sam’s body. Sam chuckles and moans simultaneously.

“Best birthday ever?” Sam asks, words still slurring.

“Best ever.”


End file.
